


the past, the present and the future walked into a bar (it was tense)

by wbso



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Do-Over, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 10:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17526965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wbso/pseuds/wbso
Summary: When Beca thinks about how she’s going to die, she always thought it would be for a noble cause like rescuing a child from a raging river or fighting for equality, or something cool like pushing someone she loves out of a way of a streaking bullet and taking it in the heart (dying in the most poetic way that she could think of at age 15 when her emo phase never seemed to end, and let’s be real it never did end) and not the most damning way that she has thought of, which is choking on a chicken nugget during bumper-to-bumper traffic in LA (her commute really gets to her).





	the past, the present and the future walked into a bar (it was tense)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure there's already a take on do-overs and stuff but this is mine. Some things I've changed from canon, Beca is not part of the Barden Bellas (at least not in her freshman year). She transfers her sophomore year to Barden. Emily is just a year younger than the rest of the girls. Other than that please enjoy!

Her first thought when she died was goddamnit Mcdonalds.

The second thought was who the fuck enters the freeway at 80 miles per fucking hour?

Her mother did always tell her to not eat something so big while driving (“Beca, get your head out of the gutter,” her mother had scolded her when she couldn’t wipe the laughter off her face, giving her a small tap at her arm), citing the distraction of eating might cause an accident.

Okay well technically it wasn’t because of the chicken nugget. It was the asswipe behind her going 80 miles per hour, rear ending her poor car, and causing her to choke on the nugget (and maybe the injuries she sustained during the crash also ended her life, but right now she’s 85% convinced it was the nugget).

She can almost hear her mother’s voice in her mind, between the wailing and the sobbing, “I told her it was a bad idea to eat chicken nuggets while driving!”

“It wasn’t the nugget Ms. Mitchell,” A Morgan Freeman-esque voice interrupts her spiraling thoughts.

Beca’s head swivels to the figure a good ways in front of her, sitting on a wingback chair, dressed in all white. Her brows knit together as she steps forward, her converse squeaks against the tiled floor, filling the mostly empty room (save for the woman on the chair). “Am I really dead?” she whispers.

“You are indeed, Rebecca,” She says as She waves a folder at her, something that Beca hadn’t noticed since her brain was too busy processing her sudden chicken nugget death. The sigh of frustration from the woman pulls Beca from her thoughts again. “Rebecca, a driver rear ended you at 80 MPH. That’s how you died. Don’t worry about your mom, she doesn’t think you died because you were eating chicken nuggets.”

Beca breathes a sigh of relief, missing the way the ethnically ambiguous woman rolls her eyes at her (Thank you, Gina Linetti, you were right). She gestures around the white tiled, white painted room. She looks around the room fearfully as she realizes something. “Am I in heaven?” she asks.

“No.”

Beca’s breath stutters past her lips, the sense of dread tumbles down her spine as her mind starts cataloguing every bad deed that she has ever done in her short 30 years of life and weighing it against every good thing she’s ever done in her life.

Damn it! It was just a prank!

“You’re in limbo.”

“Limbo?”

The woman (God?) sighs as She opens the folder in Her lap, raising Her knees to act as a table as She goes through, what Beca assumes, is her file. “Beca…”

Her tone and the pitying look in Her eyes had Beca feeling embarrassed and sheepish. The word sorry at the tip of her tongue already for whatever embarrassing or less than good things she’s done when she was alive when She starts speaking again.

“If you could rate your life from 1-10, how would you rate it?” She asks Beca.

Beca shrugs as she tries to remember her life. She feels she did pretty well. She went to a good college with an average GPA, she manages a small local goods store that her family owns that’s barely surviving thanks to Wal-Mart, Amazon, and Target, good friends that she’s not particularly close to but calls them her friends nonetheless, her love life can use some work, but dying early feels like that one should be a pass.

Her life wasn’t anything exciting and she was okay with that.

“I would say a solid 5?”

She didn’t miss the hesitation in her voice and called Beca out on it.

“Beca, you were barely living.” Even though Beca felt like it was an insult to her, she knew there no malicious intent behind it. Her soft, motherly voice belies the sharp pang of indignation that Beca felt at Her words.

“You asked me how I would rate my life,” Beca says annoyed. Her voice rises just a tad, the prickleness of annoyance creeping up on her. “Just send me to Hell if you feel like an average life does not deserve to go to heaven.”

She truly looks shocked as She stares the woman down in front of her. “Beca, we don’t send people to Hell for living a perfectly normal life.”

“Then why am I here?” Beca asks, gesturing to the stark white walls.

“Because I’m giving you a second chance,” She says. “A do-over.”

“Why?”

She looks at Beca seriously, taking her hand in Hers. It was warm and comforting, but at the same time foreign, distinctly not human. “There’s someone in your life. She would bring you happiness and joy, but you have to help her. She makes everything so much better, not just your world, but the world.”

Beca’s brows furrows at her cryptic words. “Who is it?” She’s had many girls in her life, both platonic and romantic (she doesn’t discriminate).

Before she can say anything else, a shrill alarm fills the room making Her look up and around the room, surprised. She holds Beca by the arm tugging her toward one particular corner of a room where a door has appeared. “Oh! Look at that! The next client is in. Your time is up! And I will bid you goodbye and good luck!”

“Wait-!” She feels a soft tap on her forehead. A soft tap but it managed to knock her off her feet. She feels herself falling, her eyes were heavy like she’s just had too much NyQuil, threatening to close. Her vision blurs as the figure in front of her disappears. She opens her mouth to try to scream, but it feels like there was something like jello stuck in her throat. She hits the floor with a thud.

She groans as She crouches down, rolling Beca’s body through the door. “Can’t they just say thank you and get it over with?”

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think?


End file.
